My Foxy Valentine: An Adaptation
by Foul Fountain of Flies
Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day and Kira is jealous, Gin is overtly flirting, and the girls want a show. KiraXGinXAizen. One shot.


**My Foxy Valentine: An Adaptation**

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach. I don't own the song featured here as well; it's from Millencolin and its title is, you guessed that right,_ Fox._ The plot is inspired, or otherwise heavily based on, Pollux Unbound's Slam Dunk fic, _How I Came to Own a Fox_.

Summary: It's Valentine's Day and Kira is jealous, Gin is overtly flirting, and the girls want a show. KiraXGinXAizen. One shot.

* * *

It may sound ridiculous but such mere gestures of indifference are what strike through the heart. On special days like Valentine's Day, it couldn't have been received with more hurt… feelings. Okay, that's way corny. I only meant to say that it gets on my nerves when people make it a point to show that they don't care.

Taichou, for instance, was making his case pretty clear. I had to wind up knee-deep in paperwork before I could actually call it a day that day. I had to remind him that the following day was a holiday, and that to prevent things from piling up I had to do as much as I could to lessen the projects. He nodded and grinned,

"Just because some dumb fucker decided to make tomorrow a non-working holiday doesn't mean it's worth it." he harrumphed before completely disappearing from sight.

I knew better than to call after him and question his hints, if there were any. I kept still for a time and plunged myself back to my compulsory duty. So basically what it came down to is for me to end up alone. At least that should be a good enough excuse.

But things couldn't have prepared me for what came right after. On Valentine's Day, he was an altogether different person. "Different" here should be taken to mean that he seemed more flighty than usual. To prove this point, he had to smile extra wide as he scooted his way out of our quarters, greeted everyone in sight a happy hearts' day, and would've probably made out with anyone near enough his grasp. It was a sight terrible to behold, especially when you know that this is Ichimaru Gin we're talking about. I always thought he'd go out of his way to remain in character, but I guess Valentine's Day does many wonders, among them, shake people off their knockers. Case in point.

So ignoring the fact that my captain was actually a blithering hypocrite, I shut myself in a shady pub where people are usually far from wanting to act retarded. I wouldn't risk running afoul with a couple of despos or occasional rapists wanting to have a go for no better reason than everyone's hormones were on the rise. It had happened in the past, made things uglier than they had to be and left me a lot less innocent than before. And so it fell upon me to make sure that I came to no harm this time around. This place, however, was perfect, offered solid security and was relatively free from sheer aggression such as those already mentioned. Or so I thought. I was safe in my own little space then, sipping sake, when all of a sudden Abarai Renji and Hisagi Shuuhei barged in and declared their undying hope to leave their mark on such a special day. How they found me on such a short notice, only witchcraft could have told. As it turned out, though, there was a way to achieve the kind of fame they wanted.

"The Shinigami Women's Association is holding a singing contest at seven o'clock tonight as part of the Valentine's celebration." Renji was squealing in delight.

"So?" I inquired.

"So? I can't believe you're even asking that. We could do a number! You, me, and Renji. Just think about it, what could be a better way to snag women?" Shuuhei said.

I rolled my eyes back to them. If their explanations were meant to give a fair grasp of their 'reasonable' desires, they certainly could use a little rewording. "I'm not really planning on anything, least of all get… laid. So yeah, count me out."

"Aw. You're such a wet blanket. Come on, we're the only three good looking guys at the Society; if we pull this off, what else tops it, huh?" Renji argued.

"I'm not aiming for stardom, Renji; I only need a break." I said as it became a necessity for me to leave things temporarily, to go some place where fate would give me more options. And while I was sorry to turn down two well-meaning good friends, my priorities should be given foremost attention.

Following their dismissal, I sat there till the afternoon ticked off. I have no idea how many hours passed by then. I could actually endure protracted stretches of no activity for so long as my own thoughts didn't bother me. But this time they did bother me, and they rattled on inside me until all I could hear was this expanding silence that seemed only too ready to burst. I stood up from the concrete, left the pub, and tossed myself out in the streets. I had had more doses of alcohol than I could take; I could tell because my steps refused to go steady. As for my vision, everything seemed to merge indissolubly against the backdrop: bodies, trees, houses, sand, dark skies—they all looked the same to me. I had been walking for some time then when I heard a noise. It was collective, varying in origins, and feverish. I strained my eyes up ahead as I saw, to my shock, a gathering. And it wasn't just a gathering, but a boisterous celebration where familiar faces filled every square inch of the dreaded space.

I drew closer. At careful inspection, I realized that everyone was dressed to impress. Even the brutes from the 11th Division were looking prim and human-like. I scanned the crowd further, bouncing my blurred pupils from one corner to another. In what seemed like minutes, I found what I was subconsciously searching for: Ichimaru Taichou.

He was donned in white and gray kimono with some bamboo prints on it. The choice was astounding and created an aesthetic effect that even novelists couldn't have accounted for. Or maybe that was the effect of the alcohol on my damned system. But even so, and not to put too fine a point to it, Ichimaru Taichou was looking elegant like bloody never. I suddenly became aware of myself and my shabbiness as I went through all this—ogling at him like an idiot. I mean, fuck knows what I went through that day! Even my hair was begging to be combed if it meant lending it a more humane appearance. Then suddenly, as though directed by a magnet, his face turned to me; his eyes retained their slit-like figures, but underneath, I could tell that they were drilling holes all over me. I don't know if I should be glad or not to have not seen the blazing colors of his eyes. As far as I was concerned, he was freaking me out like hell.

It went on like that for a spell. I don't know how or when but like an apparition, Souske Aizen, a.k.a the faggot of Sweetness and Light, had to swoop down beside Ichimaru Taichou, hold him closer, and kiss him right in front of the bloody crowd. The latter, for his part, went on smiling, remaining lopsided and possibly even in a deep state of inner ecstasy. I stood there and before I knew it, I was clutching what was left of that beating pathetic thing under my rib cage. And I thought, now there's no wonder why the snake was all smiles on Valentine's Day. If I'd known they were screwing each other I wouldn't have… argh! Forget it. I should've seen this coming, and to hell with either of them.

And as any sensible person would do, I averted my gaze to the makeshift stage in front of me. The one who was doing the number was Madarame Ikkaku and he was making a horrible mess out of the lyrics and he looked like he hated and suffered from what he was doing but nonetheless holding on to whatever set purpose he had for putting up a worthless show. To his credit, he wasn't on the verge of breaking down. The sea of audience either just hissed at or taunted him; either way it's not like it was going to make any difference if I found too many things wrong with an out-of-tune voice box. I just listened without hearing anything. I listened as questions turned wheels inside my head. Something was wrong somewhere. I wasn't feeling what I should feel; complacence, evenness, satisfaction, they weren't there. Somebody had to explain it to me, tell me why of all things I had to turn to some stupid image of two captains bedding one another. It wasn't fantasy, this; it was probably loathing. At any rate, I should know better than to meddle in the affair between two captains. Safety first, so they say.

Ikkaku's intermission ended in a round of hooting and scattered applause. The emcee, Nanao Ise, called on the next performer. My head was still reeling then, and what made sense to the crowd was lost on me. I saw Abarai Renji and Hisagi Shuuhei taking the floor, both wearing their most immaculate grins. I recalled what they said to me a little earlier, remembered how I mercilessly scowled at them and sent them off on their own. Almost simultaneously, I realized how wrong I was.

Thus, in a ray of guilt and unmeasured urgency, I jumped on the platform, grabbed an instrument, and took center stage. The look on both Shinigami's faces was unlikely to withstand shock; in fact, Renji's face colored and a weak curse slithered out of Shuuhei's lips. In no way sufficient to put on a show, I grabbed the mike and faced the audience,

"This song is something I've written for some person who's so annoying I wish he would just drop dead." I called to the crowd as they responded with bemused oh's. "The song's title is 'Fox', and here it goes,"

I breathed shallowly before I took the dive, the alcohol taking its final toll. I pulled a few strings on the guitar and tempered it for a bit. After a few test strokes, I got set and heated. Any sense of humiliation vanished in thin air, freedom dominating.

_I met a fox the other day_

_When I asked how much he cost, I had to pay_

_All of a sudden I brought him home._

_He's 100 kilos dressed in silverchrome._

_He's my world, he's so rad._

_He's the best ride I ever had._

_He's my life, he's so bad._

_He's the best ride I ever had._

_When I imagine me and him, _

_You know that I get a stand-up fur._

_I give him oil, I give him gas,_

_And get him seat beneath my ass._

_Then the turtledoves drive away._

_He's secondhand so what? He's true he's by my side._

_For all I care he's hot, he's a real good ride._

_When we go out people stop and stare with jealous minds._

_It's Ok for me as long as they let him be…_

_To prevent something like a theft I got him locked up a tree!_

I finished. The verses went out smoothly, melodiously, judging by everyone's reaction. There was a thick stillness before somebody decided to clap in harmony. Faces mouthed praises, jaws lowering in admiration or something resembling it. I let my shoulders collapse on their frames and managed a faint smile before gradually descending down the stairs where people began tapping my shoulders, dropping a casual remark or two. I realized how dehydrated I was. I hurried to the backstage, as fast as my weary legs could take me. I must've been smelling lousy at this point.

"Izuru,"

I rounded on the owner of the voice. It was Ichimaru Taichou.

"Yoh, Taichou." I gave him what must've been my most out-of-character slur. This was to indicate how 'not myself' I was and therefore how excusable my conduct was, whatever it might turn out to be.

"I appreciate your writing a song for me."

That sobered me up and caused me to do a doubletake. I sighed, as the case maybe, rather nervously and deeply. Air seemed to have left my lungs altogether then as my joints failed to fulfill their function. They gave way and only sheer force of determination could have kept me standing. Having no other recourse but to stare back, I held my silence, inwardly cursing myself for the unhappy, blabbering thing that I was. What the hell made me think that he wouldn't notice it anyway? I wouldn't be surprised if this got me a real grand demotion the very next day.

"What's the matter? You're shy because you want me for yourself?" he whispered sharply and went on smiling. Where I made so much out of it, Ichimaru Taichou made a joke out of it. That's how it was, how it was going to be one way or another. I should've seen right through it if I wasn't too wrapped up in my own sorrows. I was just that immature subordinate, hopelessly desiring, pining: just the little plaything that I always appeared to be in his eyes.

I rounded off these conclusions and acted in what I saw fit. Then gathering up my courage, a courage that didn't seem to belong to me or in that moment, I finally snapped, "Well, have a pleasant holiday with Mr. Unpleasant. I'm off."

I marched off but he was too fast, too sly.

"I didn't mean to be rude, Izuru." he grabbed my wrist, obscenely reducing the distance between my face and his. I could feel his breath against my paling skin. "To reprise my previous statement, I was happy that you'd bother to compose such a lovely piece for me."

Unable to stand his sarcasm, I began to break fee and drift away. What a long night, I told myself. Deeper still, thoughts of transferring to another division to avoid any contact with the snake before me prevailed over me. Boy, when was I in deeper shit than this?

"I'm 69 kilos, Izuru. I thought I should clear that up." he uttered after me.

I stopped on my tracks, turned around and frowned at him. Face to face, the moonlight shone gently on his gray hair; as for mine, who cares how blond I waxed under the stars? But this much I knew at last: my perfect vision had returned, and my eyesight didn't mistake me. He meant business.

"I don't dress in silverchrome and I certainly don't want to be labeled as secondhand. And if you want to own me, don't lock me up around a tree." He gave me his usual, meaningful grin. "Clear?" he said. I stood flabbergasted.

"Yes, Taichou." I replied quietly after a while, humbled. Amidst my surprise, those were the only words I could've possibly mustered.

From that day on, I spent each Valentine's Day with Ichimaru Taichou. I kept my word, and I didn't tether him around a tree. He never wore silverchrome because he was too refined for that, and neither was he secondhand to me. Up to now, I still can't express how fantastic it is to own a fox. No words would ever suffice either, I'm pretty sure.

END


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